


On The Clock

by MsScratch1313



Series: High Rollers Universe [2]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Some implied torture, mob!au, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 15:57:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12634374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsScratch1313/pseuds/MsScratch1313
Summary: Dean's on the clock. Renee doesn't like Ellsworth's work ethnic. Continuation of All Wrapped Up.





	On The Clock

**Author's Note:**

> TW: stereotypical torture scene
> 
> (I still fuckin love Dean Ambrose!!)

“Evening, _Jimmy,_ ” a voice sneered, startling James out of the fog he’d been in.

“Dean, is...that you?” James asked. He couldn't see anything in the dark room. He tried to get up from the chair he was in, and found his wrists and ankles restrained.

“Bingo,” Dean sang, a desk light clicking on, momentarily blinding James. 

The light also illuminated a worktable covered in various tools, both power and handheld.

Dean was no carpenter.

_Fuck._

“Aw, quit your struggling Jimmy, we’re just here for a little chat,” Dean chimed, dragging a stool over to sit on while James frantically pulled against the zip ties on his limbs. “I'm sure you’re aware of just where you are.”

“Dean listen, I’m sorry, I kept trying to go do clean up but ‘Mella wouldn't—”

“I really do not want to hear about you and _Carmella_ , James,” Dean ground out. “Who, I might add, is not at all affiliated with the Rollers. What side are you working for here, James? Us or them?”

“Us,” James sputtered, frantically. “Us, I've always been Rollers Dean, come on, you know me!”

“Not well enough,” Dean drawled, picking at his fingernails in disinterest. “If you were really Rollers, Jimmy, you wouldn't be running around playing pooch for the _Princess of Staten Island._ ” Dean went for a higher pitch when announcing Carmella’s title, mockingly.

“Listen, I haven't told them anything, and they don't tell me anything,” James panted, twisting his wrists in discomfort. “Come on Dean, lemme go!”

“Oh I doubt that,” Dean snarked, eyes narrowing. “You? Keep your mouth shut? Funny.” Dean shifted so he could reach for a pair of pliers, fiddling around with them to keep his hands busy. “I wouldn't doubt them telling you nothing important, but I'd bet good money that you’ve picked up some secrets over there, haven't you?”

“N-no,” James mumbled, eyeing the pliers in fear. “They don't tell me jack, man.”

“Mhmm,” Dean hummed, ignoring James’ pleading. He cranked the pliers until the width between the clamp part was to his liking. 

“Dean please, I swear—”

“Right,” Dean began, pointing the pliers at Ellsworth. “Here’s how this is gonna go. I don't really feel like burying a body, especially since I had to bury the last one, no thanks to you.” 

James breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing as far as the zip ties would let him.

“However,” Dean continued, tapping the pliers against his lips, “Boss wants you out of her fucking sight.”

James broke out in a cold sweat.

“So how about this,” Dean offered, sliding his stool closer and reaching out to grab James’ hand, who flinched and tried to shift away. “You’re gonna tell me everything you’ve heard while playing pet to your little girlfriend,” Dean said, spreading out Ellsworth’s fingers. “And we’ll see how many fingernails you walk out with tonight. After that, I don't ever want to see your ugly fuckin’ mug again, understood?”

“Oh no Dean, come on man,” James whimpered, “Don't play around, you can't be serious—”

Dean smacked the end of the pliers down on the armrest, right next to James’ fingers, cutting off whatever the hell he was going to ramble. Dean laughed when he flinched so hard he would have tipped the chair (if Dean hadn't bolted it down for reasons such as this).

Dean shifted so the pliers stuck up under the edge of Ellsworth’s pinkie. He pushed them down so it gripped it, not pulling yet, but applying enough pressure so that James could feel it.

“Ready to show and tell?” Dean grinned, wiggling the pliers threateningly.

“Dean, _please,_ ” James begged, nearly to tears.

Dean went from grinning to dead serious in a matter of milliseconds. 

“You shouldn't have kept me from my wife,” he bit, gripping the pliers tight and then pulling back with a sudden, harsh force.

_Thank god for the soundproofing,_ Dean thought.

He’d have Ellsworth singing yet.


End file.
